


Low Midnight: the Bandaged Stranger and the Grisly Pirate

by Heubristics



Category: Fallen London | Echo Bazaar, Sunless Sea
Genre: Gen, Gun Violence, Gunslingers, Pirates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-10
Updated: 2019-08-10
Packaged: 2020-08-14 01:10:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20183773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heubristics/pseuds/Heubristics
Summary: A story told around the stove, when the false-stars burn dimly and the Wax Wind blows hot. A story about the little island town of Seal's Lick, the Grisly Pirate that threatened them, and the mysterious Bandaged Stranger that zailed into town one night and saved them. A tale of blood and guns and candle-wax, of a comely young barmaid placed in mortal peril and a showdown at low midnight. Yeehaw.





	Low Midnight: the Bandaged Stranger and the Grisly Pirate

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Evoro](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Evoro).

> Written as a gift for a member of the Fallen London Discord channels! This one is for Evoro, and his FL character Lieutenant Evans Lothington (aka the Bandaged Stranger in here).

_ Alright, young ‘uns, shut the door. The Wax Wind’s a’blowin’ fierce tonight, and the way the candles are flickerin’ it’s gonna be a brutal one. Door’s shut? Good, good, now take that shovel lass and stand it on end. We’ll need it for tomorrow, to dig ourselves out. Aye lad, shutter the windows nice and tight. And don’t worry about your da’ and ma’, they’ll be just fine. They been through more Wax Wind’s than you’ve been through, and they’ll know just what to do. Remember, before I was your nanna I was still your da’s mum. And your ma’ was a zailor lassie back in the day. If anythin’, maybe they’ll enjoy a little time alone in the dark with the youth off with Nanna. _

_ Now now, don’t pout! I don’t reckon on just sittin’ here in the dark doin’ nothin’ while the Wax Wind’s on! Go to my sewin’ stand lass, get that tin for me. Oh yes, the cookie tin with kittens on it. You don’t think that’s where I seriously kept my sewin’ thread, did you? Oh, Twin Suns! I just don’t want your da’ or ma’ gettin’ angry at me for havin’ a bit of a sweet tooth. And while she gets the cookies, you go get the sandwiches lad. We’ll have ourselves a little picnic tonight, safe and cozy.  _

_ You know, with how fierce this Wind is tonight...it reminds me of another Wind we had, a long time ago, when even I was young. How about I tell you a story then? It’s a good one, I promise. A story about a Grisly Pirate who threatened our little island, and the Bandaged Stranger who saved us. Of gore and guns and candle-wax, of a comely young barmaid placed in mortal peril and a showdown at low midnight. And all of it real as salt. _

When I was a young young lass, younger than even you, there was a neighborhood boy who picked on me. Now his da’ was the town doctor, and as kindly a man as you could ever hope for, but his son was a right devil. He was always chasin’ me, tryin’ to put bat guano in my hair, and sayin’ I looked just like one of those plated seals that splashed around off shore. And sometimes he’d get too much and I would get tired and I’d fight back, and we tore at it wrestlin’ and punchin’ in the dirt until his and mine folks came to break us up and slap us about for the trouble. And I remember that one night after such a thin’ happened I was feelin’ raw, and I asked Da’ how such a nice man like the doctor could have such a horrible son.

Then Da’ sat me down on his knee, and he looked me right in the eye. And he said, daughter mine, the Zee’s a vast place with all kinds of people. Some of them have hearts of pearl, and others have hearts of glim, and that’s just how thin's are. All you can do is watch them, because people are always scrubbin’ away at their hearts, to see whether the stuff that gleams is pearl or glim. And that’s what he said. 

On that day, when my Da’ said that, it stuck with me. And even as the times rolled on, as I got bigger and Da’ got smaller and the doctor’s son grew up and stopped bein’ such a git, it still stuck with me. I learned from experience that Da’ was right: the Zee’s a vast place, filled with all kinds of folks. And some of those folks have hearts of pearl and others have hearts of glim, and that’s just the way thin's are. Most of the time the pearl is flawed, or the glim is light, but I’ve seen folks with the most wondrous pearl hearts and others with the darkest of glim in their veins. And we just keep scrubbin’ everyday to tell which is which. 

But I reckon out of all of them with glim hearts that Captain Payne, the Grisly Pirate of the Southern Archipelago, was the most jagged, blackest glim-hearted monster I ever saw myself. 

He was a monster in human form, he was, and aspired to look like one as well. A big bearded brute, ruddy in face and tooth with blood on his fingernails and breath. He had one mean green eye and one that was just a black orb he’d ripped from the angler crab that took his. His right foot had been torn off in some past battle, and he replaced it with the blade of a sawfish; his right hand he’d replaced with a hooked contraption of bone and steel known only as the Mangler. Around his neck he wore the jawbone of a zee-monster for an armoured collar. At his hip were always twin flintlock pistols: cursed weapons from the Lost Spanish Expedition, firin’ lead balls that chewed into you slowly and burnin’ all the while. And whenever he’d show up in town after makin’ port on Seal’s Lick, he’d always have this nasty grin on his face, like he was always thinkin’ of the next wicked plan.

And make no mistake, the Grisly Pirate was wicked to the core, always scrubbin’ away at his black-glim heart. He was a robber, a murderer, and worse. He laughed when he saw pain in another’s eyes or heard it in their mouth, and he loved inflictin’ it. They said he’d had his ship specially modified to sail durin’ the Wax Wind, so he could catch his targets slow and unaware. They said he’d torpedo ships and beasts to watch them bleed out, then set them on fire before recoverin’ the cargo and bones. They said he recruited his crew from the dregs whose crimes were so foul they’d been banned from even the pirate ports. 

He was bad luck all around. And he was bad luck for the island-town of Seal’s Lick.

I don’t know when or how he found our little town in the beginnin’. Even back when we were still recognized as a New London Colony, we were so far off the safe zee-lanes that it was rare for anyone to come this way. Why should he have wanted to come here anyways, a little island filled with nothin’ but scrub, salt, guano, and a hardy little town of miners and fishers?

No matter how he found us. The problem was once he found us, he kept on returnin’. The Wax Wind would come, and sometimes the Grisly Pirate’d come with it. He’d set his ship up on the other side of the island, and then him and his crew would stroll into town. They’d eat up our food and drink up our beer and take whatever caught their fancy, and then Captain Payne himself would take a shine to one of our folks. He’d have his crew line us all up in the town square and then pick that person to join his crew...if they could survive initiation. And the initiation was gettin’ keelhauled. 

They’d tie them up and drop them over Payne’s ship -  _ The Crimson Rose -  _ then drag them under it until the figurehead started cryin’ red on account of bein’ cursed like everyone on that ship, then haul the poor soul back up. They never passed initiation, our lads and lasses. We’d get them handed back to us, sometimes dead and sometimes not, and the Captain and his crew would laugh and laugh before they’d leave. Nothin’ for us to do but give the poor soul their last rites and give them over to the Drownies and the Zee.

And then we’d get back to our lives, but always with one eye open for whenever the Captain next came to port. It was no good tryin’ to stop him - we didn’t have the numbers or the weapons on our side - and it was all we could to do to hope and pray  _ The Crimson Rose _ was shot to pieces by the Navy or some other pirates.

_ Aye! Don’t worry, young ‘uns, Payne’s dead as dead he is. He won’t come in to port to grab you, don’t you worry your head over that. I haven’t gotten to where the Bandaged Stranger came in yet, and he took care of the Grisly Pirate right and proper. Now back to the story... _

There was nothin’ in particular that brought Captain Payne to Seal’s Lick except luck. Just plain bad luck on our part. But the funny thin’ about luck is that you can never tell how it will work out, in the end.

Because the Bandaged Stranger, he was also brought by plain bad luck.

He zailed in one evenin’ with the Wax Wind, though when exactly we couldn’t say. When the dock closed up for the evenin’ on account of the Wind blowin’ hot there was nothin’ but the usual ships in harbour; the mornin’ after, there was a broken down old steamer lyin’ there at the dock, all clogged up with wax and barnacles. Now from its shape and it’s lack of visible crew everyone thought it was a wreck, but when they pried open the captain’s quarters there was the Bandaged Stranger, lyin’ there on the floor unconscious. Not a single other bein’ on that ship, far as we could tell. The fellows that found him brought him on down to the Sandy Echo saloon and watched him for a while, just in case he was filled with spiders or zee-fish, until he finally woke up. And by the way he was dressed and armed, well, already everyone was whisperin’ about him.

He was in a right confused state when he woke. First thin' he did was ask the barmaid tendin’ the bar leanin’ over him if she was Janet, and the second thin’ he did was ask for a bottle of Greyfields. Once he realized she wasn’t who he was lookin’ for and our little island town was too far off the routes to get a fancy wine like Greyfields in, he sobered up right quick. All he asked after that was whether he could get help fixin’ his ship and what kind of drink we served here.

Now the Bandaged Stranger, he was what folks in far London refer to as a Tomb-Colonist. All wrapped up in bandages and the like, just like the way we wrap our fishers and zailors for their last rites, only with a fine leather duster on top. And he was a mysterious one, he was. That ship he washed in on was a bucket of rust and barnacles held together by steel bolts and prayer, but he was more kitted out than the town marshal and never had trouble payin’ for what he needed. His voice was deeper than the Zee, only with a constant rasp like your ma’ gets after a night out drinkin’ with the lasses. And he moved just like a shark, all smooth motions with that tension that told you he wanted to be on the hunt. 

He never said much, only that he couldn’t stay long; he had business of the unfinished variety, or hereabouts. And as we never saw him without that .45 revolver on his hip or the lever-action on his back, folks got to rumorin’ over just what his business was. Some claimed he was a bounty hunter, others he was a criminal on the run.

Me? Well I don’t reckon I knew at the time what he did for a livin’, but from what I saw in his eyes I figured he was hurtin’ somethin’ fierce from somethin’. Somethin’ he was tryin’ to deal with, that led him astray here.

So the nights passed, and the townsfolk of Seal’s Lick got used to the Bandaged Stranger. He’d be out there all day cleanin’ the wax off his ship and scrapin’ the barnacles and fixin’ his busted parts, and when we turned the lights low and let the stars shine he’d come into the Sandy Echo and sit at the bar, drinkin’ his corn beer with hat tipped low. And when the owner would close down, he’d wander on back to his shop and do it all over again the next time we turned the lights on.

Well, this was all well and good until the day the Grisly Pirate strolled back into town.  _ The Crimson Rose  _ had returned to Seal’s Lick on the next Wax Wind, and its crew had come back to take what was ours yet again. Only this time, there was somethin’ different: the Stranger was in town.

Captain Payne and his crew came to the Sandy Echo just like always, scatterin’ townsfolk away from the town street. The Captain was prone to dramatic entrances, and he’d about kick in the saloon doors to make sure everyone knew he was about. So he slammed the doors open and stood there grinnin’ somethin’ awful with his black eye and red teeth and his bone peg and the Mangler cradlin’ one of his flintlocks. Then he boomed, “It's been rough waves and troubled waters for weeks, and we’ve been so hungry we even ate the rats! Now we’re a might peckish for some good eatin’ and good ale, so we’ll be havin’ your larder and your kegs of fine brew...if you don’t mind. And if you do...well, there’s more meat on you than there were on the rats, hargh-hargh!”

Now the Bandaged Stranger wasn’t lookin’: he’d got his face in a mug of Plated Ale with his hat low, like always. But when the Pirate said what he said, the Stranger looked up and glanced around the room, all easy like. And I’m sure he could see the way we were frozen in fear, because right when the barmaid was about to open her mouth and agree he spoke up, “Mighty rude to speak like that, even fer a pirate.”

Oh, how Payne turned red at that! The way he was fumin’ as he turned to the stranger, you could have used him to cook food. “I don’t reckon I’ve seen you before, mummy,” he sneered at the Stranger.

“Well now, that’s because I ain’t been here before,” the Stranger drawled. “But this here’s a nice peaceful town, even if it doesn’t have Greyfields, and yer makin’ it a little less peaceful.”

Captain Payne didn’t like that, not one bit, and his crew wasn’t sayin’ nothin’ on account of hearin’ someone talk back to their boss. So Payne puffed himself up and spat a gob of red right into the Stranger’s glass, where it swirled with the brown, to show he wasn’t havin’ it. “And what of it, dead man? I reckon it’ll be more peaceful if you shut up, ‘less I make it peaceful by breakin’ your body in half.” 

He tensed, and the Mangler activated.

Now before you could blink, the Stranger was on his feet and right in front of the Captain, with his six-shooter’s barrel right in the Pirate’s throat. His voice was soft, but the rasp was steel. “I reckon it’d be most peaceful if ye leave. Now these folks seem scared to death of ye, and I can’t for the life of me think why. I’m sure yer just lookin’ for a quiet meal and a drink, just like I am, from how skinny ye are.” 

Considerin’ that the Stranger was half as skinny as the Captain even with his coat on, it appeared he had a sense of humor in there. By this time, he’d produced a second six-shooter after one of the crew pulled a knife. “But when ye talk about breakin’ people in half, now I don’t like that. Somebody could get hurt. So I would suggest ye and yer crew sail away, and ask a Navy ship to help ye find a hot meal.”

With a gun to his throat, Captain Payne couldn’t exactly say no to that. But oh, he was mad as Storm and the Drowned Man put together. He didn’t say nothin’, only glared at the Stranger with his horrible black eye, then turned and led his crew out of the Sandy Echo. And once he was gone, once we realized he wasn’t comin’ back that evenin’, oh how we partied! We toasted the Stranger well, that night. Partly out of gratitude, but also because we knew that the Captain and his crew would be back sooner rather than later. We needed to celebrate, before he returned. 

And the Captain planned on returnin’. Oh yes he did. See, this was the first time he’d ever been stopped from doin’ as he pleased on Seal’s Lick. He didn’t take too kindly to that. And the way the Bandaged Stranger had spoken back to him must have touched a nerve. So he decided that the Stranger had to go. Figured on ambushin’ him at night, on his way back from the saloon where no one would see.

Now Captain Payne wasn’t himself a subtle individual, so he sent a portion of his crew to do the job instead. And while he was the nastiest one of the lot, the rest of his crew were just as bad. There was Sable Sam, an anarchist from far London exiled for blowin’ the rest of his cell up in a post office bombin’; Sister Incisor, a nun for a church whose gods were never full; the Moonchild, who was said to have committed unspeakable crimes in a world not our own; and a dozen others even worse. 

And his second in command, the one in charge of the ambush, she was the Helminthologist. Some said she was the Captain’s lover, others his sister, a few one of his past victims...whatever the truth, she was a bad ‘un. They said to never look under her helmet, or you’d find nothin’ but worms.

Well as it turns out, that evenin’ the Bandaged Stranger had decided to take a more meanderin’ route on his way home that passed by the All Gods Church. Now the Stranger wasn’t a particularly spiritual man to my memory; he didn’t wear any holy symbols or have any shrines set up in what parts of the ship we worked on, and he didn’t attend any of the services for the Twin Suns or Storm or Mother Dark or even the Drowned Man. So why he should have stopped by the Church that evenin’, I don’t think any of us will ever know. But he did, and that’s where half a dozen of Captain Payne’s crew ambushed him. 

The Bandaged Stranger was kneelin’ down in the main hall of the Church, right in front of the big center where we put all the shrines. The Helminthologist leadin’ the way, the crew was able to take up positions in the pews with their knives and their guns unnoticed. Maybe the Stranger didn’t see the figures comin’ up behind him, or maybe he just assumed they were townsfolk. And maybe if one of the crew hadn’t spoken up, their plan would have worked and we’d all be in a darker place nowadays.

But the Moonchild, well…the Moonchild was always one of the odder ‘uns. They saw thin’s no one else could see with those blank white eyes of theirs, and sometimes they reacted to them. So right as the Helminthologist was raising her worm-pistol to the back of the Stranger’s head, the Moonchild twitched and blurted out, “The Legion remembers, NCR scum!”

Now what they meant by this, not even the Bandaged Stranger knew. But it sure as hell alerted him, and he jabbed the Helminthologist somethin’ fierce from how fast he whipped around. Now the Stranger liked to aim for the head, and in the heat of the moment that was the first shot he took. Well, it was too bad for the Stranger that the Helminthologist wore that divin’ helmet of hers, because the bullet just ricocheted. But it was bad news for the Moonchild that the Helminthologist wore her helmet, because the bullet ricocheted back into them. 

The rest of the crew, they were in the Church. Not the biggest buildin’, you remember. And they thought they were goin’ to just be on a single beat and kill job. Facin’ someone with a gun, who’d just shot one of their comrades, they weren’t lookin’ too eager to engage. So those of them what just had knives and clubs hung back, and those who had pistols figured on using those first. The Helminthologist was pissed at the Moonchild gettin’ hit, and also at the Moonchild for screwin’ the whole plan to pieces. And the Moonchild, well, the milk went out of their eyes before they could ever explain the thin’s they had seen or the thin’s they had done. 

The Stranger, meanwhile, was havin’ a hard time as it was shootin’ in such close quarters. After all, one wrong ricochet and the bullet hits him instead. So he mostly ducked around the shrines, takin’ potshots and the like, until two more of the crew are dead on the ground with the Moonchild and the Helminthologist has had enough of this whole thing. Not to mention the shots were wakin’ up the whole town, and we were gettin’ out of bed to see what was going on. So her and the last three crew, they retreated back to their ship.

Of course, the Church was shot to pieces in all that ruckus. But the Bandaged Stranger paid the bill afterwards, and when we found the gold - oh no, no the gold comes later. I’m gettin’ ahead of myself. Anyways, there were bullet holes and damage all over the Church, not to mention the bodies, but the Bandaged Stranger had driven off the ambush with nary but a few scratches. As far as we could tell, at least. He’d sent the crew limpin’ back to  _ The Crimson Rose _ , minus a few who were dead for good. He’d proved himself as good as his word when it came to fightin’. 

Well now, all of this was too much for Captain Payne. First the Bandaged Stranger had stood up to him at the Sandy Echo, even threatened him. Then the Stranger had shot up the crew Payne had sent to ambush him. This was an insult to him, a threat to his ability to control Seal’s Lick by fear. So as vile and monstrous as he was, it was obvious what he had to do: remind Seal’s Lick of just much he could hurt us, and give the Bandaged Stranger a slow, gruesome death.

Well, the first thin’ he did the next evenin' after that was send some of the crew round to the Sandy Echo, after closin’ hours. They weren’t too keen on fightin’ the Stranger, on account of what happened in the church ambush, but they didn’t have a problem with kidnappin’ the barmaid. She came out that night after closin’ the bar, and didn’t even have time to scream before Sable Sam pulled a black glove over her mouth. They tied her up like a Seal and stole her back to the ship, and not a soul heard her muffled cries.

Now Captain Payne could have just killed or tortured her right there on  _ The Crimson Rose _ , but all that would have done was whip the town into a righteous fury not even he could stop, with the Stranger at its head. No, no, he had to make sure the Stranger was killed. And not just killed, executed personally. Because Captain Payne liked to see people suffer by his hands, and he was mighty angry at the Stranger for humiliation’ him. So when he kidnapped the barmaid, he left a note behind: 

**IF YOU WANT TO SEE HER ALIVE**

**FACE ME ON MAIN STREET AT MIDNIGHT**

Captain Payne wasn’t an honorable man, not at all. He’d have his crew stationed all along the main street, hidden away for an ambush. And he knew, because as bad a man as he was the Grisly Pirate was a good zailor, the telltale signs of the Wax Wind about to blow that night. He’d set everythin’ up so that one way or another, the Bandaged Stranger would meet his death. 

As for the Stranger? Well, after the townsfolk came and showed him the note, he disappeared into his ship and didn’t come out. People didn’t say anythin’ afterwards, but I later learned folks were worried that he was about to abandon them. 

Of course, they were wrong. 

The night after that, the Wax Wind blew in the fiercest it had ever blown. The townsfolk reinforced their doors and windows as tight as they could before takin’ shelter in the Sandy Echo to see the fight. The air was hot and stingin’ as hot wax showered over the island. And in the main street under an umbrella, with the barmaid bound and gagged at his feet, waited Captain Payne.

At eleven forty-five, people saw the Bandaged Stranger emerge from his ship, rifle on his back and six-shooters on his hips. At eleven fifty he walked out in the street, facin’ directly toward the Grisly Pirate, until he stopped around ten meters away. Not many folks heard what he said after he stopped, but I did. 

“Won’t lie, Captain Payne, I’m not gonna regret what’s about to happen to ye here tonight.”

Well, the Grisly Pirate didn’t say anythin’ at that, only stared. His hands were by his cursed flintlocks, and the Stranger’s hands were by his revolvers. The townsfolk didn’t say nothin’. The crew lyin’ in wait didn’t say nothin’. The only sounds was the Wax Wind howlin’ with all the hungry rage of the Drowned Man, and the far off cries of plated seals. 

Low midnight came, and the Grisly Pirate went for his guns. 

The Bandaged Stranger was faster. 

Payne hadn’t even reached his flintlocks when the first bullet bloomed straight through his skull. The second one caught him in the throat, and the next two after that twinned neatly through his black glim heart. The Helminthologist was the first to stand up from where she was waitin’ near the post office and fire back, right as Payne’s body hit the salted dirt. But the Bandaged Stranger wasn’t havin’ any of that either, for he was a man transformed. He rolled and fired blind, and his third shot sprayed worms out of the Helminthologist as she twisted and collapsed. After that was a load of confusion and chaos in general, as everyone started firin’ at once.

He’d rolled the barmaid to a nearby buildin’ while firin’ one-handed at the Mercury Brothers. He’d emptied his revolvers when Sable Sam rolled a bomb at him, so he pulled his lever-action; one shot took both the bomb and Sam out of existence. When Sister Incisor leapt from the second floor of the general store to try and rip open his stomach, the Stranger brought her low with the butt of his rifle. No matter where the pirates were, he’d be firin’ or swingin’ in their direction. It was like he had eyes in the back of his head. 

At one point in the fight, when he was busy takin’ cover from the Brass Bull’s hand cannon, I saw Irrigo Jill sneakin’ up from behind. And right as she’s about to choke him out with some cord, he did this funny little whistle and from the sky this great black raven, like a zeebat but with feathers, came soarin’ down. And it just plucked out Irrigo Jill’s eyes, one two easy as that, before swingin’ around to peck out the throat of another pirate tryin’ to snipe him. And the Stranger just kept on goin’. It was like no matter where he was lookin’, he could tell everythin’ around him. He was that good. 

And the townsfolk...well, once the Pirate was down they got their fightin’ spirit up. Next time you see Doc Hopkins, or Sheriff Stella, or even ol’ Reverend Goodberry? Ask ‘em about what happened in the Stranger’s midnight gunfight, and what their part was. They got some stories to tell of their own.

Now there was a hell of a ruckus, and Seal’s Lick was startin’ to push back the crew of  _ The Crimson Rose _ . The Bandaged Stranger was front of the crowd, pullin’ out spare guns every time he’d empty one of his. He must have had at least ten of them hidden away, though I can’t rightly recollect how; mysterious tomb-colonist magics, maybe. But by this time the Wax Wind was blowin’ even stronger and faster, and people were startin’ to hurt from the spatters of hot wax hittin’ them, so at last folks had to retreat. With Payne and most of his crew down, that was satisfaction enough for us. 

But the Bandaged Stranger, he kept walkin’ into the night, firin’ his guns and chasin’ the crew like a shark on the hunt. 

The next mornin’, all the townsfolk came out - includin’ the barmaid, who’s dirty and sore and glad as all hell that she’s alive! - and found the Stranger had disappeared. He was vanished, and his boat was gone. We thought it was a dream, until we saw the bodies of the Pirate and his crew. And on the other side of the island,  _ The Crimson Rose _ was dead in the water, crew gone or dead. The Bandaged Stranger, he has made sure it would never zail again. But he left one thin’ in the ship for us…

The Pirate’s treasure hoard!

_ And there you have it, young ‘uns. The Bandaged Stranger came and went with the Wax Wind, in from parts unknown and back out to zee sailin’ westwards. We hung a welcome banner out for him for a solid month, just in case he’d come back, until the Wax Wind came back again and tore it down. He never did come back. But though he was only here for a while, and though he didn’t say much, you best believe I saw how much he was scrubbin’ and scrubbin’ away at his heart. And what I saw underneath all those bandages and that hurt was solid moonpearl.  _

_ And the Gristly Pirate? Captain Payne? Well, he was dead. Deader than dead. For you see, after the Bandaged Stranger plugged him full of holes, the Wind came in and filled them all up with wax. Coated the rest of him, too. When we came out to find him in the mornin’, he was stone dead and half-candle. And you best believe that we whooped and hollered and had a second big ol’ party at his passin’. We ate well off the meat cooked on the fire we made from his body, for all that wax burnt nice and hot. There was no zailor’s rites for the Grisly Pirate. _

_ ...What’s that, you say? How do I know how all that happened? Why, that’s a right rude thin’ to say to your nanna, sittin’ here eatin’ my cookies and doubtin’ the veracity of my claims! I was there for the whole thin’! _

_ Who do you think the barmaid was?  _


End file.
